


Fall

by kasaihanaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:36:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasaihanaa/pseuds/kasaihanaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Prove to me that you're worth getting to know." Zuko and Mai are both isolated for different reasons. Yet, they are drawn together by their mutual understanding of just what seclusion means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Almosts

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: language and smoking, future domestic abuse mentions and possible mature content throughout. 
> 
> AN: Hello Hello~ It’s been a while since I’ve started anything new, and I figured why not try for something other than the main timeline. My intention is to try and practice dragging out scenes, developing characters differently and hopefully trying my hand at something that could become a larger than just a few chapters. 
> 
> Modern AU 
> 
> Chapter One  
>  ALMOSTS

 

The mirror doesn’t grace her with any compliments, only the reflection of tired eyes, darkened circles and the matted tresses of hair that stick to her forehead and neck. 

The sink runs, soothing despite the alarm blaring in the background, the present reminder that there is still a day to be had, to be lived, or just settled for. She lets it beep through the hour, shedding her shirt and pants like snake’s skin. 

She hates the morning, but not the showers that come with it. Mai starts with the water cold, hanging her head as the shivers set in, turning the dial slow, until the warmth is comfortable.

Afterward, she slips from her room to the kitchen, brushing her hair and trying to set up the coffee pot all at once. The cat’s curled up just underneath the mail slot on the pile of envelopes, no matter how many times she’s asked the mailman to just leave them outside the door. 

It’s all junk, mom’s likely written again, but that might as well be considered junk too. While the coffee brews, she plucks the cat from the mail pile, setting it in a nearby chair as she fishes the bills out, discarding whatever’s leftover. 

After one too many cups of coffee, she pours the rest into a travel cup, rushing to grab her keys and refill the cat’s food and water on the way out the door. It’s a fast bolt from the apartment, through the short hall, ignoring the neighbor as he waves, cigarette in hand always out on the balcony, until she can reach the car. 

 

Mondays tend to feel like wading through mud. College was supposed to be a godsend. It created a nice chasm between her and her controlling parents, which only caused ridicule at holiday dinners over all of the unanswered letters and conversation about future endeavors she had little to no idea about. 

When she’s finally set free from her upper division english class, she’s met with only a vaguely familiar face and a voice she can only remember when she thinks about the taste of tequila and the lime afterward. Still, it doesn’t help with names. 

He’s tall, almost the epitome of everything mom would want in a man—-had he bathed, combed his hair, and possibly hadn’t smelled so strongly of weed. “Mai, long time no see.”

Maybe, it’ll be effective if she waits for him to say his name first. “Morning.” She sighs, walking past, adjusting the bracelets on her wrists when he tries to hold her hand. 

“You missed the party.” He says, and she breathes out in relief when he puts his hands in pockets.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it was my best yet. Would have been even better if you showed up.” 

“Next time.” Mai smiles, and it almost hurts from how forced, “I’ll call you—-” A quick glance upward and back down,and luckily there’s a sharpie mark on the side of his shoe that rings enough of a bell. “Jet.”

He finally walks off, only after giving her a quick wink. 

She has no intentions of calling.

Alone again. She makes her way to the coffee shop on campus, pulling out her laptop and opening several documents she’s named but has yet to even begin to write. 

Maybe, it’d be easier to observe. Watch the customers order their drinks and pastries, make their pasts and presents as they sit and read, or lounge, stare blankly at empty computer screens just like her. Mai settles on a boy on the corner, fidgeting and looking up from his text book, making eye contact before shooting back down again, running a hand through his hair, nervous. 

Instead of the laptop, she pulls out her notebook, jotting down hand movements, and little snippets of moments she imagined he could have gone through while getting in line. How he almost ordered wrong, almost forgot to pay, almost dropped the cup on the floor during the hand off. The boy full of almosts that he somehow, someway, always got through no matter how much the day tried to shit on him. 

By the time she leaves, her coffee is cold. 

Outside, there’s a nice wall just behind some trees that line the main walkway. It’s a nice smoking spot, devoid of human life, perfect. Mai pulls out one stick of her Marlboro’s fishing through her purse as she silently promises herself next time she’ll quit. 

“I—you kind of dropped this.” 

Mai jumps, deadpanning when she realizes it’s the same boy from the coffee shop. He pushes through the low hanging branches of the trees, snapping twigs, reaching out with the lighter balanced between his fingertips.  
He’s disgusting. If disgusting was equivalent to nauseatingly endearing and hopelessly clumsy. “You followed me?” She asks, quirking a brow as he continues to noisily prop himself up against the wall beside her. 

“Yeah, I—I thought you might need it. For something. Smoking?” 

“Smoking.” Mai nods, “Light it for me, would you?” 

Again, he fumbles just a bit, finally flicking on the flame and bringing it up to the cigarette sitting between her lips. “I see you there, at the coffee place, a lot.” 

From that, she wonders how often. Was he there during spring, or summer where she spent the vast majority of her time there hiding tears or chewing on the end of ballpoint pens, whispering ‘fuck’ repeatedly to herself. “Interesting.” 

“Not really. I just kind of noticed you...looking at me today, and—-” He says, tapping the butt of the lighter against the wall.

“I look at a lot of people.” 

“Yeah, but you looked at me a little longer, and I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just wanted to get to know you.” 

She almost laughs, but it comes off as a bit more of a scoff. You stare for longer than a few seconds and suddenly someone wants to get to know you? Hardly. Mai takes a long drag at the thought, her head spinning and picking at all of the potential ulterior motives. “Why?” 

“It’s just—we’ve had a couple of classes together, and then the coffee thing, and I just thought...I thought maybe, maybe we should just be friends? I mean, because we keep bumping into each other.” He says, looking up at her, honestly flooding the light color of his eyes—-confusing. 

“What’s your name?” 

“It’s, just Zuko.” 

He’s waiting for an answer, she knows, and all she can think of is her lists of fidgeting movements, how his hand is doing the same thing where he runs it through his hair. All of his almosts. Almost ruining it, almost not following her, almost not gathering the courage to even begin his approach. How he somehow, someway, found himself here, among the low hanging trees, leaning up against the wall with some girl he just met that happens to like cigarettes. 

How...she almost lets him in. 

“Well, Just Zuko.” Mai smiles lightly, snuffing out the rest of her cigarette against the wall just beside him. “Prove to me that you’re worth getting to know.”


	2. Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: My ideal plan is to get chapters out every 1-2 weeks. But my schedule is a little heavy this month so it may be more sporadic but hey, at least i'm not leaving you all hanging for months on end again.

chapter two

**OBSERVATIONS**

* * *

 

Two hours later Zuko's still thinking about her cigarette ashes being pressed into the brick wall. From the moment he saw her in the same coffee shop, two, maybe three semesters ago, all he's tried to do is decipher her. The first time, he remembers, was the most jarring.

By now, he knows his nerves are just that—-nerves. Most of which, actually aren't that bad in comparison to any other occurrence. But still an embarrassing slew of sweaty palms and rosy cheeks, stuttered speech and fidgeting.

He recalls the first day, her walking in, tired eyes, slipping her credit card from the top of her boot before finding a nice spot at one of the tables—-her table, now anyway. It was when she sat and her gaze turned down, and over, gliding from the rim of her cup and over to him in the corner. Always, always in the corner. It was then that his pulse shot up, and his palms became more moist than he was really sure they could be, then, he recalls how the drool on his shirt made her laugh—-made him blush. He'd always been a master of tiny accidents but at least this one was a pleasant one.

From then on, all he'd tried to do was gather the courage to talk to her. Later when he found her in eight A.M. biology, he had gotten close. Approached her seat after the professor dismissed them, only to find her asleep, face buried into her arms.

Zuko had become a pathetic string of failed opportunities, and everyone knew it.

"What'd you mess up this time?"

"Huh?" He'd hardly heard the door of their room open, which was weird enough considering just who he was talking to. "Leave me alone, Sokka." Zuko shoots a glare at his roommate, watching as the other boy poses, flexing and making faces at the mirror. "Where were you anyway?"

"Gym." Sokka shrugs, changing from one dirty shirt to what's likely to be another, "You didn't answer my question."

"I did, I told you to leave me alone. Or did you not let it sink in the first time?"

"Jeez, you know how I know you screwed up again? You're always more of jerk after you try talking to that gloomy girl."

"I didn't try."

"Ah, so then you're just a jerk in general. I underestimated the power of asshole within you, oh great, Jerk Lord."

"I did talk to her." Zuko says, smiling to himself.

"No way. What happened?"

Zuko begins to explain in spurts and starts, starting from the cigarette and somehow working his backward. Even after going through it again, he still can't quite understand what she means.

"Worth getting to know?" Sokka asks, quirking a brow, "You know, this sounds like a pretty difficult game she wants to play if you ask me. And from what I know, you're not good at games."

Zuko sits up, propping himself upright with his forearm, "Game?"

"Yep." Sokka smirks, plopping onto the bed next to Zuko, draping an arm over his shoulder, "You've got to win her over and beat out the competition."

"It's not a competition."

"But it is! And you, Lover Boy, are going to win."

"How exactly is that?"

"You just so happen to be talking to a man with extensive experience in the ladies department."

"Great, so i'm fucked."

"That's the spirit!"

**. . . . . . .**

 

 

Mai hesitates going back to her apartment, knowing just how much she's wasted of whatever meager wages she makes at the local flower shop. Today is rent day. Today is rent day and she knows she's behind more than she can borrow.

When she finally makes her way home, she's sure to watch for the landlord who smokes across the hall. It looks clear enough, but just in case, she pulls the bouquet of hyacinths out of the passenger seat, rehearsing lines for when he inevitably pokes his head out of the door.

Right on time.

"Mai, it'll be three months today if you're behind."

"I know, just give me a second." Mai says, fumbling for her keys and closing the door behind her.

Quickly, she puts the flowers on water, hurries to her room for the jar of money she supposedly saving but really only consists of about five dollars and the corners of a few torn papers labeled, I.O.U.

Only two minutes in and he starts knocking.

"I said, one second!" He doesn't wait, instead he fumbles for the master key, letting himself in. All she can do is hold out the jar and her wallet, gaze turned down to look at her shoes. "It's all I have…"

"Honestly, Mai?"

"I know, it's—-pathetic. But I can make it up to you."

"How's that?"

"I got you flowers. As an apology." Mai sighs, setting the wallet and jar on the counter, closing the door behind them.

By morning she's peeling herself from the covers, then to the shower, turning the dial slowly from cold to luke warm and back again. From there it's back to bed where it smells of the night before, causing her to pull the sheets off all together and lay on the mattress bare.

She thinks about going back home. Back to her mom and little brother, and the lectures she'd get, odd looks, and continuous reiterations of how they just knew she couldn't do it. How she could've stayed, shouldn't have gone, followed their suggestions—-not tried to do this on her own.

Back to the cage. Return to the place where she'd be alone, like she is now, but in closer quarters, further from freedom, free of mistakes but not without reprimand. And somehow she thought, here was better. Here, laying naked on the equally bare mattress trying to piece herself back together to get through the day.

At least she could pretend.

Find myself. She'd said in her caged life, and yet here she still had yet to find a shred of who that was.

Three hours staring at the ceiling before she finds her back to the coffee shop, staring at his empty corner. Mai sighs, pulling open the lid of her laptop and chewing on the end of a stir straw.

"Hey."

The voice causes her to jump, shutting the computer fast. "Shit! Don't you know how to say hi properly?"

"Um, I said hey, is that not…?"

"Never mind." Mai sighs, watching the boy circle around her chair and sit in the one across from her.

"Um, I don't know if you remember me but—-"

"Lighter boy. What?"

"My name is Zuko. Anyway, I was thinking about what you said—" He begins to do what she's used to, fumbling with his fingers, biting his lip as his eyes flick from her eyes, back down to her computer and over her shoulder. "And I think if you didn't get to know me, you'd be missing out."

"Oh?"

"Uh, absolutely?"

"Missing out on what?" Mai rolls her eyes, turning to see what hes fixated on, a boy in the middle of arm gestures, facepalming quickly before trying to hide behind a nearby wall."You've got to be kidding me…you brought a friend?"

"He—he's not, no it's just my roommate."

Mai glares, watching Zuko's face change from embarrassment to confusion, "If you need help, I think that says a lot about you already."

"Like what?"

"Like there's nothing of value. Not unless you have your friend to vouch for you." Mai shrugs, turning and seeing that the other boy is gone. "I wonder how you'll fare now. Try again, no pointers."

"I'm sorry, he just wanted to help. I knew it was a bad idea."

"Absolutely awful."

"He actually made me write down lines…"

"Oh?"

Zuko nods, pulling out a sheet of paper and beginning to read off the list of puns and pick-up lines. "They're all—-well, they're all pretty bad." He laughs, watching her expression lighten and the faintest of smiles begin to creep through. "But it's obviously amused you so, it can't be all bad."

"I'm just imagining what a mess you'd be."

"I'm not very good with people. Especially girls. Girls I like, usually."

"You like me?"

"I might."

"Why?" Mai asks, tilting her head, "You don't even know me."

"I know that you like lattes, and you people watch more than you do your homework on your computer. You like the color black, and indie music…"

"You stalk me."

"I just paid attention." Zuko shrugs, looking down.

"Well," Mai sighs, feeling her cheeks grow warmer and her smile grow broader than she'd like, "You like tea. You wipe your hands on your jeans at least twice a minute, bite your knuckles, and fix your hair even though i'm pretty sure it's permanently messy, so it's beyond me why you continue to try."

"Stalker."

"Observer."

"Fair enough."

"Most people don't know my music taste." She continues, sticking the end of the straw back into her mouth, "Or much else about me actually." Her gaze shifts down, looking at his hands as they twitch and fidget against the tabletop. "Hang out with me tonight?"

"What?"

"There's a party. One of my—-friends. Come with me."

"I don't really go to parties."

"It'll be fun."

"Fine, okay." Zuko shrugs, looking up at her. Still nervous, but his eyes are lit up and there's a new confidence about him.

"See you at ten?"

"Ten?"

"Meet me here." Mai smiles, packing up the computer and shoving a handful of napkins into her purse out of the dispenser. "And don't be late."


	3. Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an: I'm sorry the updates are a little spotty, but i've been super busy, please bare with me.

chapter three

**WORRIES**

* * *

 

Zuko's hands shake at the thought of her. He and everyone else knows how easy it is to reduce him to tremors. With uncertain fingers, he buttons his shirt, slicks back his hair three times over until he finally ruffles it back into the mess from which it came. He rehearses hellos, imagines standing and waiting just outside of the coffee shop where she may decide not to come.

Always the background thought, that maybe he's just not quite that interesting, that maybe this just can't be as good as it seems.

On the walk down to meet her, he thinks of the feeling that'll come when she's not there, how he'll sigh as he expects it, buy tea from the shop, swallow the embarrassment that floods in with every sip.

The area outside of the cafe is empty, the lamp that lights the walkway shines on where he hoped she would have been—where he knew she wouldn't be.

Just as imagined.

Zuko sighs, buys his usual and settles into the chair that's wedged into the corner.

Mai's idea of indecision is supposed to be as simple as not being able to pick what to eat for dinner, debating if class is worth going to, or if she wants to spend the first hour of her morning writing about whoever, doing whatever it is they do, in whatever time. Yet, this bit of indecision is clouded with the annoyance of his voice in the back of her head, the way his smile creeps up one side of his lips and then slowly washes over to tug at the corner of the other, the hair in his face the last time they spoke, the faint outline of scars that line his forehead and run down to his jawline, how similar ones mark his hands and wrists.

This annoyance and hesitation carries over to her every task. All she can relate it to is a grade school crush, fawning over charming smiles and hiding the humiliation of rosy cheeks. She pauses while she brushes her teeth, dazing while hanging and rehanging potential outfits, suppressing nauseatingly distant thoughts that trickle in while she secures the buckles of her shoes. All of the daydreams build until finally she lays back on the bed, breathing a sigh.

The feeling of weight on her causes her smile, letting out a laugh at the meow that follows. "You can see me freaking out, huh?" Mai asks, reaching and pulling the animal up and over her chest, "He's just a dumb boy. That's it."

And yet, there was something almost too sincere, too interested, too good natured about Zuko. The thought of him being real threw her off balance, unsure how to handle anyone actually being kind or wanting to know her, not without wanting something in return.

"Idiot." She mutters, pushing herself up and watching the cat leap onto the floor.

She can't help but wonder what he wants. There's always something, a cigarette, a ride home, a drink, a fuck, or all at once, and the trouble was, she almost always gave it, hoping for an exchange of conversation, or emotion. Both of which never came.

From the start, she'd always had trouble connecting with others, maybe it was the stale and pristine upbringing, the stiff stature, the quiet monotone, or the practiced etiquette. Mother used to dress her up for father's work parties, all in hopes she'd be able to charm the sons of CEOs.. First impressions—-or seconds, even thirds were always important, always about how many charades you could pull before they catch on.

When Mai finally makes it back to campus, he isn't outside, leaving her to peek into the window only to find him sulking in the corner, staring into a cup of who knew what, that had likely already gone cold.

"Hey." Mai says, pushing one of the other chairs over in front of him.

Zuko perks up almost instantly, eyes wide in shock. "You're here?"

"What? You thought I stood you up?"

"Yeah, actually…"

"I thought about it." Mai smirks, peeking up and over into his cup, "Finish your tea so we can go."

Zuko downs the remains of the cup quickly, going from seat to trashcan and back, readjusting his jacket while Mai tries not over-analyze how he bites his bites or shrugs his shoulders, getting comfortable in the sleeves. She trails behind him, giving him directions through the parking lot until they reach her car.

The drive is quiet, only the sound of the blinkers, the engine, and Mai's occasional sigh. "Nervous?" She asks, putting the car in park, "You don't really seem like the type to be social too often."

"If by often, you mean almost never." Zuko mutters.

The closer they get to the house, the more the bass from the music fills his chest, the difference between nerves and excitement almost indiscernible. Once the music drowns out his hearing, he's met with the flood of the crowd, nearly losing Mai as she walks ahead. Zuko reaches for her hand, holding on to her index and middle finger.

Mai pulls, feeling the drag and slack as he tries to fit between the collection of bodies until finally he brushes against hers. She hates dancing where people can see, but when choosing a means of entertainment, propping themselves up along the walls, yelling small talk back and forth just didn't seem to be enough. Mai turns, wrapping one of Zuko's arms around her waist, her hips swaying as she steps into him further, shoulder blades brushing against his chest, ass on his waistline. He doesn't move.

Mai scoffs, turning back to face him, "You need to loosen up." Without waiting for a response, she walks off, coming back with two shot glasses and a slice of lime.

"I'm that tense?" Zuko asks, eyebrow quirking as she holds the small glass out.

"Yes. You are." Mai adds, taking his hand to sprinkle the salt.

Luckily, Sokka taught him the routine once, making the first shot, the second, and third go by without incident. Only, after a while he loses track of the number of she's had in return

He's funnier when he's not timid, though he's telling jokes that aren't quite funny, but his posture is looser, his shoulders are slumped and the dopiest smile flashes across his lips with each punchline.

"I like when you do that." Mai smiles, her footing slightly off center, ducking her head to hide the blush.

Zuko stops mid-sentence into his next joke, head tilting off to the side, "Do what?"

"Act dumb."

"I always act a little dumb…" He snorts, finding one of his hands have slid their way around her middle.

Before long Mai dances again, clumsy against him, leaning back, craning her neck to brush her lips against his jaw. Zuko holds her hand again, pulling them closer together. Her mouth roaming from jawline to temple, until his head turns, trying to find her lips. She turns away then, muttering something about the bathroom, stumbling off and up the stairs.

Zuko waits ten, then fifteen, thirty minutes, before going up to get her.

The bathroom is empty, which he expects, leaving him to wander the second floor hallways, relieved every time he finds an empty room. It's only when he reaches the end that he finds a door cracked open, the shine of lamplight, followed by the sound of her usual uninterested giggle.

Soon after, he regrets being stupid enough to push the door open, finding her pushed up against headboard, dress pushed up, a sight that causes him to look down, fixating on the sharpie mark "J" on the other guy's discarded shoes.

Zuko finds himself downstairs, wondering why he drew so close, why he couldn't just keep his distance. Nights like these never went as planned, and he knew, there was no possible way things could so well so fast, so soon.

He stays waiting on the bottom of the stairwell, staring at his hands as he tries to ignore Mai settling in next to him.

"Hey…" She says, piling her shoes into her lap, "Do you want to take me home?"

"Yeah." Zuko sighs.

Somehow, he didn't think the drive home could be more silent than their departure. The blinkers don't fall in line with his nervous heartbeats, the rev of the engine's gone numb.

"Fuck," Mai whispers, fumbling with her keys, the panic settling in as she realizes her mistake. Slowly, and then all at once she remembers how worried she got that Zuko was ready to take what he could from her, all in an instant, inducing the paranoia, causing her to turn and run for the first person who's intentions she could actually read. Immediately, she scrambles to rebuild walls, create the space, hide away even though her lips can still feel the line of his jaw, buried beneath whoever's came after.

Zuko helps her to the door, through the living room, tucks her into bed.

"I've got it just fine." Mai murmurs, curling up beneath the covers, "You don't need to do that..."

"I did it anyway." He adds, sitting a few away on the mattress, frowning a bit as he realizes she's starting to drift off, her expression softening as she's reduced to snores. He wishes he could talk to her while the taste of alcohol is still faint on his tongue. Questions would just have to wait until morning."Good night, Mai."


	4. Comforts

Through the night, Mai dreams of the alternative, dancing within the crowd, letting him find her lips, melting into a parade of kisses for the rest of the night, and that's as far as the affection goes. They spend hours in the car on the way home, Zuko making rounds through the city, laughing at her slurred words and how she clumsily sings along with the radio. He takes her hand, running his thumb along the back of her palm until he finally takes her home.

When she wakes, the reality hits her with the throbbing headache of a hangover, the stale taste of alcohol on her tongue, and the tired weight on her chest from the regret. Going from bed to shower, to towel, she makes her way out of the room and into the kitchen, startled from the snoring that comes from her couch.

Zuko lays curled up almost in a fetal position, shoes still on, ass hanging off the cushions as he tries to fit onto the piece of furniture. His arms are crossed, pulled tight to his chest, having not bothered to check the hallway closet for an extra blanket.

Mai doesn't wake him, only gets them both an apple, a cup of tea for herself, plopping down on the floor across from him at the coffee table. She pushes his apple over to his end of the table, still clutching the towel around her chest, taking too much effort to center it where he'll see as soon he rolls over.

Afterward, she takes this time to write, jotting down whatever bits of her dream hadn't faded, making notes of the real mistakes on the margins, trying to figure out what to replace or add in. It's a wonder how much easier it is to happy stories, to recreate scenes she hadn't gotten the chance to live herself. Pages and pages of rewritten autobiographies, happy endings, perfect families, and whatever other pleasures she had yet to experience.

She's smiling warmly at her notebook when Zuko wakes, still failing to see him while rereading one smooth sentence, tracing over the petals of a flower she had drawn on the corner of the page.

"Hey." Zuko murmurs, his voice hoarse and groggy, squinting with one eye open as he looks from her to the apple on the table.

Mai's smile fades, her hand quickly shutting the notebook's cover, "Morning."

"Um...?" Zuko's eyes drift downward and back up, "didn't want to bother getting dressed?"

"I don't typically have guests who stay until morning." Mai says, reaching a hand up quickly to adjust, hurrying for her bedroom door. "Excuse me."

When she's gone, Zuko rubs the apple on the fabric of his shirt, deciding to take the opportunity to wander. He starts from the breakfast bar and works his way through the rest of the apartment, carefully looking at pictures, tickets, and snippets of quotes strewn about the space.

There are two family pictures, one with a woman that Zuko can guess is her mother, and another with people he can't quite figure out. Still, it's interesting to know more than just the coffee shop, more than just the girl who leaves him on stairwells.

"What are you looking at?" Mai says, causing Zuko to jump and set the picture of her and mom down with a little too much force.

"Just looking, you left me alone so..."

"That's my mom." She sighs, "We don't talk."

"Why not?"

"Selective lack of association." Mai adds, waving a hand in dismissal. "I figured, 'we don't talk,' was hint enough."

"I don't really talk to my parents either..." Zuko shrugs.

"No offense, but me telling you that wasn't an invitation to bond."

Zuko pouts, glaring as he watches her slide past him. The silence takes over soon enough, only the sound of the sink and the clatter of the dishes.

After a while, Mai takes to putting things in cabinets, shoving pots and pans into their places, closing the doors with her foot. "You can watch, or you can help. Or better yet, leave."

"I actually had plans today." He responds, shrugging while he goes back to looking at pictures.

"Well, by all means. Go do whatever you had to do."

"Can't."

"Why?"

"It—sort of includes you."

The sigh that follows is accented with the crash of a few dishes, roughly set into the top shelf. "Maybe I don't want to be included."

"Too late."

As if the fact that he stayed the night for no reason wasn't strange enough, of course he has to string her along through the day. "Fine, you win, what are we doing?"

"You wanted to hang out last night, and we did what you wanted. Now it's my turn."

"Just tell me what it is, Zuko."

"It's a surprise." He smiles, ignoring her eye roll, trying not to comment on the blush that flares up on her cheekbones.

Mai tries her hardest to hold her frustrations with him through the morning. She maintains glares through her passing, venom in her voice as she directs him to the closet for a towel then to the shower, skeptical on their way out the door.

"Can I drive?" Zuko asks, stopping just short of the passenger side door.

"You want to drive my car?"

"It's easier than giving directions." Zuko smiles, letting out a breathy laugh when she finally tosses him the keys.

Zuko drives. Mai keeps her eyes fixated on her fingers, thumbs running over themselves as she fidgets. She watches his hands, going from radio dial, to steering wheel and back, his fingers tapping the rim of the wheel at stoplights, keeping time. They stay in a comfortably blaring silence, the soft hum of the radio as it plays blues not too loudly. Mai thinks of writing about it, turning over sentences in her head, but can't quite find the words to describe it. Lines of contradictions, he is; jarring, but pleasant, unbearable, yet charming It leaves with her nothing to jot down in her mind but touches that weren't quite there, somehow far, yet incredibly close.

When Zuko stops the car, the soft jerk of the cabin brings back alertness. Outside of the window she can see balloons, and the parade of visitors that flocked in the direction of them. Further off, the entire setting begins to unfold, causing her to turn and give Zuko a small glare.

"A street fair?"

"Carnival." Zuko corrects, unbuckling his seat belt.

"You took me to carnival...do I look like child?"

"No, but it never hurts to act like one." He smiles, getting out before she can fire back another comment, coming around to open her door, "Let's make a bet." Zuko smiles, closing the door behind her, "If you have a nice time today, I get to take you on a second date."

"I—-Deal, but I wouldn't get my hopes up." Mai agrees, arms crossed over her chest.

"One laugh, and a good day, that's the bet."

"Right, laughs are hard to come by these days."

Throughout the day, it turns out she was almost right. Zuko wanders the fair grounds, pointing out games and performers, trying to put any crack into her deadpanned expression no matter how small.

Mai wonders which face to put on, the uninterested, or the judgmental, leafing through the options like she would for her favorite chapter in a book. Despite her efforts, intrigue begins to creep onto her expression, excitement, confusion, flattery, and a twinge of embarrassment when Zuko smiles, pointing from booth to booth, trying to get her to take interest. She hides it, almost well, turning every now and then to direct her attention to the popcorn salesman, or the children pulling on heir parent's hands as they tug them to the small stage at he carnival's center.

His laugh brings her back to him, watching him win a small toy and handing it off to the next kid passing by, laughing out a quick "you're welcome" to a little girl's parents, his face lighting up as she hugs the toy to her chest.

"You gave it away?" Mai asks, eyebrow raising, her gaze following the family as they drift back into the crowd.

Zuko shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Yeah, I figured you weren't the stuffed animal type."

"You'd be right." Mai smiles, reaching for the end of his sweater sleeve, "Come on, it wouldn't be right if we didn't win our own souvenir. Besides, I like a little competition." She tugs him over to the nearest water gun race, handing the attendant two dollars, "Best two out of three."

Zuko chuckles, widening his stance and squinting one eye to aim into the clown's mouth, "You're on."

Three games and six dollars later, Mai's undefeated, causing Zuko to beg for a fourth.

"You're such a sore loser." Mai says.

The bell sounds and before she pull he trigger Zuko turns, aiming the gun in her direction, drenching her hair and shirt. Afterward, he bolts, making it a few yards before she grabs at his sweater again.

"What the hell, Zuko?!"

He flinches at first, swiveling to face her, more than ready a slew of insults. They never came. Instead, she's laughing, shoving and pushing at his chest while she does so—still laughing nonetheless.

"Not only is that cheating, but it's also just—-you're so...ugh!"

She whines and pushes, yelling teasing words, and all he can do is smile at her. "I win." He says, and she stops, her laugh fading into the softest of smiles, cheeks flushed red, bangs sticking to her forehead.

"Yeah, well...you're still a cheating sore loser to me."

Zuko passes her his sweater, adjusting his T-shirt underneath on the walk back to the booth, they try to claim their prize despite the game runner's objections. In the end, he hands Zuko a large stuffed dog, which Mai snatches up quickly, using to hide the red on her face and everything else about her.

"I thought you didnt like stuffed animals."

"Well, I like this one." She says, her voice muffled underneath all the fur.

For the rest of the day they return to their touches that aren't quite there. Only this time, he is bearable, undoubtedly pleasant, and yet, terrifyingly charming. For hours, she didn't have to wonder who he was or what he wanted, how long until he just took whatever it was for his.

Aside from the low roar of the crowd, they wander the grounds in silence, stopping to watch the shows, never mentioning anything as she attempts to lean against him, drawn into the performance of the dancers, one arm wrapped around her souvenir, the other going around his waist, clinging to the side of his T-shirt.

On the way back to the car, they stay like this, slow, keeping in step as he tries to ask questions. Where is she from, what she likes, majors, favorite coffee from the shop, what her cat's name is, and a long continuing list of others. Some she ignores, others she lets him in.

"I work in a flower shop, as out of character for me as that is." Mai sighs, "My aunt owns it, it's okay, I guess."

"You could just live in the dorms, you know? I know it's not as private as your apartment but…"

"Not a people person."

"I guess, I kind of noticed that."

At least that didn't require much explanation. He could definitely seem to relate to having more meaningful conversations with the barista, the quick hellos, goodbyes, paying cashiers followed by fake smiles, before hurrying back to the comfortable seclusion.

"I'm good by myself. I'd rather not try living with anyone, I think it's better than trying to share and live up to anyone's expectations."

"Expectations can sometimes be good."

"Not when they're all you live for." Mai sighs, "Anyway, my turn to burden you with an interrogation. What are you studying for?"

"Law." Zuko shrugs, "Nothing interesting."

"Ha. My mother would love you."

"Would she?"

"She loves anyone who can hold a good argument. She also enjoys a good liar." Mai laughs.

"Interesting taste."

"You have no idea."

"When I was little, my mom was charged with—-something she didn't do. I know it's a little crazy to hang onto those kinds of things that don't matter anymore, but I just feel like it's my job to set it right by doing this."

"By becoming a lawyer?" Mai asks, nudging him in the direction of the front gates.

"By helping as many people as I can from being punished for something they didn't do."

"Hm, melodramatic, and a little angst ridden, but i'll take it. May justice be served."

"Thank you."

"No problem," She says, "Now, please, take me home before I die of hypothermia."

In the car she turns the heat nearly all the way up, keeping her hands by the air vents.

"It's not that bad."

"To you." She says, and again watches his hands, going from radio dial, to steering wheel and back, his fingers tapping the rim of the wheel at stoplights, keeping time with the music. It's only when they pull into the campus parking lot that she realizes her hand found his.

"So, you had a nice time, yes or no?" Zuko asks, his fingers squeezing her hand gently.

"Yeah, it wasn't entirely awful."

"So…?"

"So, yes, i'll hold up my end of the bet, and you can have a second date."

"I'll be sure to bring flowers."

"Only if you want them for yourself."

"What else do you like?"

"Books. Which, most boys don't bring books for dates, so you should get creative."

"I'll work on it." Zuko nods, handing over the keys, "See you."

Before he can get out of the driver's seat, she pus a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for today. Good night, Zuko."


	5. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might not be out for quite a while. But i’ll do my best not to take more than a month.

Sunday through Thursday Mai spends her time after classes cutting thorns off of rose stems. Interesting, she thinks, how easy it is to mimic the nights before. The end of their few days with a kiss to his cheek, the beginning, the lighting of a cigarette, and their middle—-the thorns, cut off until they became next to harmless. An arrangement of them both, wet shirt, dry jacket, her arm strung across his back, holding tight. Harmless.

Mai thinks of the ridiculously giant stuffed dog slumped against the headboard of her bed. How she wrote about it, before walking into the flower shop attempting to ignore Aunt Mura's knowing gaze.

So knowing, the older woman takes her chance for interrogation as she arranges bouquets. "You're glowing today." She says, her hands spreading apart the sprigs of baby's breath as she fits them in between the roses.

"I—I'm not, I just slept well." Mai tries to hide it, but her voice is too soft and her cheeks grow red as she realizes how easy it is to notice.

"Good sleep or not, it's always nice to see you smiling."

There’s a lightness about all of this and it nauseates her. As if happiness is a sickness, growing from her chest, and spreading outward, leaving no nerve untouched. When Mura leaves she lists the symptoms. Rosy cheeks, smiles, some tingling sensation she can’t really find the word for. Diagnosis? Crush.

On the way home, she keeps one ear always tuned in to her phone, listening to any vibrations from the cup-holder, only to be disappointed when she finally parks.

There’s an odd catharsis to the way she enters the apartment hallways, like this time’s different. She is not just coming home from a day of work, but she’s coming home to the first day, after many, where her limbs no longer feel heavy with guilt, and there’s something to be proud of.

When she gets to her door, she’s met with a small pile of books, a note tucked under one of the covers.

“Flowers.” It reads, with an awful doodle of a bouquet underneath. She turns the note over, cheeks flushing red again, “Because I felt like you’d kill me if I got real ones. From, Zuko.”

The first is titled, Flowers for Algernon, followed by, White Oleander, and the always overly praised, Perks of Being a Wallflower. She lets out a laugh at the library return date on the back, another note slipped into the back cover, “In case you’ve already read them.” Always nice to have a boy who plays it safe.

Mai sets the books on the breakfast bar’s counter, refilling the cat food bowl, trying to push away the interest in the Daniel Keyes novel just a few feet away. It isn’t long before she gives in, curling up on the sofa, not unlike the cat who purrs next to her.

During Zuko’s biology lecture, all he can think about is not only how much he doesn’t know about biology, but also how much he doesn’t know about books. The trip to the library was confusing enough, toddling around the different floors, unsure what genre, or author she liked, almost thinking heading to the florist for real plants would be the better alternative.

After about an hour, and with less than that remaining to check out and get them to her doorstep, he finds himself being so thankful that librarians exist.

She points out three books, all following his request for floral titles, all which he has no idea what they’re about. He could have, had he not spaced on the entirety of her explanation of plot, all to think about actual herb life, how nice it would be to become a shrub.

Oh, how nice, he thinks, breathing, pollinating, not much else except being trampled by other life. At least those thoughts were biology, no matter how painfully accurate to his current situation.

When he finally reemerges into an attentive state, Sokka’s drawn at least four dicks on the corner of his paper, varying in size and shape.

“Seriously?!” Zuko snarls, trying to keep his voice just above a whisper, “You’re not even in this class!”

“Correction, not anymore.” Sokka replies,. “Dropped it after the second exam.”

“Did you draw a penis on that too?”

Sokka picks up Zuko’s pen giving it a spin, “I figured it was a decent representation of the reproductive system. Graphic aid, you know, extra credit. I even labeled it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously _brilliant_.”

On the way out, Zuko has to listen to his roommates recollections of his own date nights, remembering how—-calm his girlfriend was in comparison to his friend’s personality. “I don’t know how she puts up with you.”

“Me either, but isn’t it great? Suki’s so smart, and pretty, and…hey, what happened with you and coffee shop girl?”

Zuko flushes red almost instantly, “We went to a party, she ditched me for another guy, but I spent the night.”

“You spent the night with a girl interested in someone else?”

“No, maybe? I don’t know, she seemed more...confused than anything. We were drunk. Well, mostly, she was.”

“Okay, let me get this straight here. You let your drunk crush go hang around some other guy? And you didn’t do anything about it?”

“You’re not helping, Sokka. Besides, I took her out the next day, and it was actually really nice.” He thinks to go into detail, but the anxiety sets in, consideration of books on her doorstep, how he hasn’t had any word of them yet. No reason to get his hopes up.

It doesn’t take long before Sokka takes the hint, picking up the slack in conversation, carrying on about his own activities, whether Zuko was actually listening or not.

By the time they make it back to the dorms, the waiting game begins, one hour, then two, three, and not a phone call or text. It’s embarrassing how it all goes, the dining commons and back, check phone, shower and check again. Nothing.

It’s just past two in the morning when it finally happens, a “FUCK YOU” in all caps lighting up the screen with her name. He types three different responses, unsure if she’s actually trying to use insult or just teasing. Finally, he settles on the most straightforward, despite the fluttering in his chest and the undying urge to turn off the cell phone altogether, he calls her.

Mai answers, her voice wavering between giddy and vicious, if at all possible, “I hate you.”

“I didn’t do anything…?”

“You did, actually.”

“Sorry?”

Mai laughs, and it knocks him back to the image of her smile the last time he saw her, “It was sweet, Zuko. I really liked Flowers For Algernon. By that I mean, the gesture was sweet, not the book.”

“You did? I mean, you did, of course, it’s a really good book.”

“Um, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up tomorrow?"

“Yeah! Sure, i’d love that. I’d really like meeting with you again, if you want to.”

“Considering I just asked, I think that means I want to.”

They agree to spending the next morning in the their usual coffee shop, letting that morning become almost routine. Over the course of the next few months, they flip flop between lattes, walks in the local park, and quiet two person games of charades, all the while curled into each on her couch.

For those few months, she doesn’t think of the past, she forgets all of the things she fails to mention, fails to acknowledge, and for a while the feelings stop licking at her insides, begging to told. It doesn’t take shots of tequila to forget her mother’s letters or that fact that she’s behind on rent, only his bright smile that slowly begins to light up a room.

“What does this make us?” She asks, smiling while making the futile attempt to get his hair to sit neatly.

“I don’t know. Best friends?” Zuko says, his cheeks flushing red.

“Really? Felt like more than that.”

“I don’t know much of anything about you, so I can’t say we’re close enough for anything else.”

Mai makes her last ditch effort with his hair, giving up finally to sit up in defeat, “That’s not fair. I’m just not much for sharing, okay?”

“You think it’s unfair that you know at least the basics about me, but all I know about you is that you write and you like books?”

“I work in a flower shop, my favorite tea is jasmine, I wear a lot of black, I like food.”

“Anything else?”

“The cat’s name is Min.”

“I guess i’ll take it,” Zuko laughs, “But I wanna know more. We can just talk. Sometimes it helps me.”

“You help me not think the rest of it.” Mai sighs, settling back in next to him, “How awful everything used to be, how alone I felt. I mean, i’m alone now, but it’s a different alone. But you make it better, that helps me.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard to do.” Zuko says, “Even if it is a cliffhanger.”

“Writer’s charm.” She smiles.

By the fifth month, she’s forgotten too much. Mai drives home, checks the mail box, leafing through envelopes on her way to the door. Another letter from mother sits on top, and when she looks up there’s a note taped to the door.

The note is from the landlord, the one she’s half expected for months now, especially since she stopped offering favors. Immediately, the emotions resume, and she tears at the letter pulling out nothing but an index card that reads; Please come home. Love, Michi.


	6. Poems

Zuko lays in bed for a the third night in a row, spinning his cellphone between his fingertips. It's only been two weeks, and yet there wasn't a single hint. He remembers the last night, how they kept it simple, watching movies on the couch in the apartment, forgetting the scene, the sound of character's voices becoming muffled as he loses himself thinking about the softness of her lips and her hands against his chest—-nothing.

He remembers kissing her goodbye in the morning, her smile as she waved from the doorway, other hand holding her coffee cup. A few days later Zuko had tried to surprise her, knocking on the door and being met with only the echo of airy silence on the other side. The landlord answers him from behind, cigarette balanced between his lips, a quick, "You won't find her here."

The problem isn't the change, it's the fact that she never bothered to leave any answers. After the first week and more than enough unanswered phone-calls, he visits the flower shop, walking up to the small woman behind the counter.

"Hi, I um, I was just looking for Mai. she mentioned working here..." Zuko says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"She quit a few weeks ago, who are you?"

For a moment he keeps his eyes locked onto the rose stems, following them as her hands lift them from the counter and into a vase. "My name is Zuko. I'm her boyfriend—-well uh, not officially, but I'm not sure what else i'd call it."

"My name is Mura," she smiles, "I'm Mai's aunt. It's nice to see she has a friend, no matter how unofficial."

Zuko nods, smiling in return, "Why did she quit? She won't answer my calls, and she isn't home."

"I doubt you've done anything wrong. If you had, knowing my niece, she wouldn't hesitate to make sure you knew it." Mura hands him the vase, pointing at the empty spot in the display window. "But that doesn't answer your question."

"Not exactly." Zuko sighs.

"She went back to her parents. From the looks of it, her moving here didn't have the kind of improvements she hoped for."

"Improvements?"

"You'll have to ask her, I don't feel comfortable sharing someone's feelings who aren't mine."

"Do you have a way to contact her?"

"You care about her a lot, don't you?" She asks, head tilting to the side. She hands him an envelope, circling the return address. "It's there, try to stop by in the afternoon."

"Thank you, I appreciate the help."

"And Zuko?"

"Yes?"

"Despite what she says, I'm sure she cares about you too. She has a lot of trouble showing that, but I think she'd want you to know."

"Yeah, thanks again."

The drive isn't too long, just over an hour on the freeway before he sees the exit. The house is far bigger than he expected, with a path through a string of trees that leads up to the front entrance. Zuko tries calling first—straight to voicemail.

"It's me again," He says, sighing into the receiver, "If you don't want to talk...or if that's what you're trying to tell me you want, it's kind of working." A quick adjustment of his seat before he turns off the car's ignition. "If you wanna talk, you should come outside—-unless, i'm outside of the wrong house, then...you should probably check that first. Um, anyway, I hope you do come outside, I just miss you I guess."

Zuko starts dozing off after the first half hour, the glint of the sun bouncing off the glass of the front door wakes him.

* * *

 

It is the weight of the suitcases in the trunk, heavier, bigger, pulling her back down as she attempts to lift, refusing to let her up the steps. Suitcases, she thinks, are for short trips from home—-vacations, but she can't help but think she's never actually had one.

The entrance of her parent's house is exactly the same as it was the last time she saw it, all marble and glowing. Family portraits are propped up against a small table, a vase of fake flowers on either side. Everything else is sterile, the only hint at habitation being the pictures, but even those are clean of their worth.

As she walks through the house, everything is in its place, the couch cushions, place-mats, television remote placed just a few inches to the right, always atop the coffee table. Mai opens a window, only with the knowledge that her mother would have wanted them to remain closed. The offset of the room calms her, making her retrace her steps through the home, moving the couch cushions, adjusting the remote, the mats, anything to make the place seem lived in.

Tom-Tom is seven now, Mai remembers, he comes up to her waist, his expression still hopeful, maybe. Usually, he is picked up from school by four, but by now he likely has lessons, instruments, sports, things only their mother cared about. It is five-fifteen when she looks at he clock, she assumes they'll be home in at least an hour, her father much later.

She takes this time to sit on the now rearranged sofa, pulling a small notebook out of her purse. Mai turns to the first blank page, scrawling titles out in the margins. It becomes a series of short poems, all lists, all likely a failed attempt at humor—-mostly, the first is called, How To Clean Your Kitchen. Immediately followed by the first and last line reading, "Don't." Other titles are quickly scribbled out on the page, How To Take A Vacation, How To Sneak In Your Pet Cat, and finally, Opening Windows, followed by the sequel, Breaking Windows with Suitcases.

Tom-Tom and her mother come in not even an hour later, the sound of the keys rattling around in the lock makes Mai go silent. Immediately, her brother's steps disappear up the stairs, fading as he makes his way through the halls. Mai's mother glides right past her, grocery bags balanced on her forearms, gently swinging like a pendulum. Mai holds her breath.

For the next few minutes she goes unnoticed, listening to the clatter of the cabinets, the open and close of the refrigerator, all the while wishing she could sink into the upholstery.

When her mother finally does notice, she stops just short of the kitchen's door frame, her expression some kind of cross between relieved and frustrated, as if she knows this is all a mistake.

The next poem she might've titled, Smother Yourself With Throw Pillows, "Nice to see you." Mai says, knowing this is definitely not the suggested first bullet point on anyone's list of icebreakers.

"Aunt Mura called me."

"I asked her not to."

Mai watches her mom move the remote back to its usual spot, refusing to make eye contact, "What made you come home?"

"I missed being with family." She says, rolling her eyes.

"So unlike you."

"You don't know what I'm like." She says, imagining how it would be more preferable to choke on pillow filling.

Michi, her mother, graceful as always, fragile and weak, she hasn't changed, going silent the moment she feels any offense.

They live out the rest of the night in tight silence, broken by her father's rattle of keys. Ukano's steps remain the way she's always known them, the way they've probably always been, even, slow, irritatingly balanced. He walks by them all, as if the room is vacant, disregarding son and daughter, giving his wife a swift kiss to the cheek, no feeling behind it.

Dinner is no different, only the clatter of utensils against plates. Michi attempts to speak up, setting her fork off to the side, wiping the edged of her mouth with a napkin. "Mai's home."

"I can see that." Ukano says, eyes flicking up at his daughter for half a second, only to fall back down. "The writing didn't work out?"

"I'm still enrolled, I can still make it to classes if I leave early in the morning."

"Have you really considered the probability of you actually getting published?"

"No, but I—-" Mai sighs, glaring at her plate as she pushes vegetables from one end to the other.

Her father takes it as a battle won, letting the space fall back into white noise.

By the time Mai makes it to her room she lets out a soft sigh, checking her phone. Eleven texts and two missed calls, not that she's surprised. She listens to the first, pulling one of her old throw pillows over to hug to her middle. He's outside, she thinks, her heart fluttering a bit in her chest as she slowly goes to peek out of the window. A poem titled, "Avoidance" followed by, "An Epigram for Assholes," immediately come to mind. The second thought is just amusing enough to urge her to make her way down to the door, turning over more options, thinking of the many lists of things to say that could possibly explain herself to him. For the first time all day she comes up short.


	7. Silences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM ALIIIIVE. College and work are eating all of my time but i'm trying to get back into the swing of writing things. I haven't forgotten this, I promise.

The cabins of cars have always been somewhat soothing, with music playing faintly in the background, it’s easy to forget what all goes on outside, being confined from everything just for a while. Mai watches Zuko, one of his arms just barely extended outward, hand running along the curve of the bottom of the steering wheel. 

“How’ve you been?” He says, not looking up at her. 

Mai sighs, turning her gaze away from his hand and onto her own resting in her lap, “Okay.” 

“Just okay?” 

“Just okay.” 

She’s scrunched into the space of the seat, knees bent up to her chin, the heels of her boots digging into the cushion of the seats, anything to make herself smaller. 

“Why’d you come here?” Zuko asks. 

“Where else do people go when they have no where else?” 

“I don’t…?”

“Don’t try to get it.” Mai smiles lightly, turning her head just enough that a few strands of her topple over her kneecaps, “You’re cuter when you’re clueless.” 

“That doesn’t mean I like not knowing you.” 

“But it does mean that i’d rather you didn’t.” Mai’s smile fades, her hand reaching out to turn the key in the ignition. “You stay on campus?” 

“Yeah?” Zuko says. 

“Let’s go there, I wanna see.” 

From her house back to the college, the car stays almost silent, only the music and flicker of the blinkers. Zuko sneaks peeks at her from his peripheral, her face hidden under her hair, head propped up against the window. Seeing her shrunken down reminds him of their time as strangers, her fumbling with a pen at her usual spot, him peeking over hardly read school books, trying to make out the words she’s mouthing despite the music carrying through his headphones. 

Everything about her seemed to conflict after he’d finally went up to her that day, tripping over bushes, reaching forward with a lighter he didn’t really want to return. From there, she teetered on coffee shop silent to party chaotic, back to calm and softened on her old apartment couch. But somehow he liked her smaller, chewing on the backs of ballpoints, tapping in frustration at her keypad, the cooing sounds she makes when she feeds her cat, all the smoother edges, the ones she’s hidden somewhere between him and the car window. She is that blank page, he thinks, the letters left un-typed, only bite marks in the pen. 

Ten more minutes of silence before they reach Zuko's dorm room, which is immediately interrupted by his roommates over-enthusiastic greeting.

"Sokka this is—" Zuko trails off, his hand gesturing at Mai.

"That gloomy coffee shop girl! Yeah, I've heard of you!"

Mai rolls her eyes, sitting on the bed that she assumes is cleaner. "Haven't we all?"

"Sarcastic, I like it." Sokka says, "Just what my buddy needs."

Zuko tilts his head, moving next to Mai, “I need someone sarcastic?”

“No, just someone almost as broody and depressing as you.” 

Mai smiles a bit at that, gently rubbing Zuko’s shoulder. “Almost.” 

Sokka goes on, cracking joke after joke, about a half hour later Zuko feels the weight of her against his shoulder. 

"Tired?" Zuko asks, tilting his head until his cheek grazes her hair.

Mai sighs, the faintest smile curling up the corner of her lips. "No."

Sokka stands, inching for the doorway. "I'll just—leave you two lovebirds alone." 

Zuko mouths a quiet 'thank you,' rolling his eyes as Sokka shoots back a wink in return. 

"I like your friend." Mai says, moving from his shoulder to lay back on the bed.

"He's definitely something."

"Very something." She says, and Zuko feels her hand tugging on the hem of his sleeve. He follows where she coaxes, falling in next to her. 

They share silences again, looking up at the ceiling, starting to count the bumps and cracks in the plaster. The only sound comes from Mai shifting against the sheets, pushing herself up and over his chest, sliding her fingers along the curve of his jawline. 

When she kisses him the pressure is light at first, growing heavier until it causes him to breathe in. 

"I did miss you." She says, continuing to hover over his lips. "Only a bit."

" I missed you more than a bit. It's—kind of why I tried to find you." 

"What'd you miss, exactly?" Mai smiles.

"That." Zuko smiles back, kissing her. 

She's gotten even smaller since the ride in the car. The subtle hairpin curve of her lips falters just as soon as it starts, waning to the hidden hint of pain as her lip quivers. Zuko runs his thumb along the curve of her jaw, his eyes fluttering shut as she leans in again, pressing forward until he falls back. They become a mess of limbs, Mai tugging at his sleeve hems and zippers, her bottom lip dragging across his neck, breath heavy against his skin as she fumbles with it all. Soon enough she’s peeled everything from the two of them. 

Mai’s hair frames their faces like a curtain, shielding her body from view. Zuko begins mapping her body through touches, pausing to trace the dips in her scars, his hands curling gently around her shoulders until they run their length back up to her face. 

"Promise, you're okay?" 

Mai sighs, leaning her cheek into his palm. "I'm okay, Zuko. Just okay." 

"How can I help?" 

"I want to feel something. Right now, anything." 

"I don't...?" 

"You—you feel everything, I see it in your face, in your eyes when you're happy, nervous, upset, I see it." Mai sighs, "I want to feel that." 

Zuko tilts his head, his hands dropping from her cheeks and down to her waist, "You do feel that stuff, everyone does." 

"I don't. So I want you to teach me." 

"What?" 

"Teach me." 

"I don't understand."

"This..." Mai says, taking a breath, "When I kiss you, it's the closest thing I get to a feeling. Kind of like—static electricity...just a shock of something. Just like that, it lasts for a second, you laugh or do something moronic and it lasts longer. I'm trying to understand it, I want it to stay, I—" She pauses, taking a breath, shutting her eyes tight. “Forget it.” 

“Hey…” Zuko sighs, pulling her in, he runs his fingers along her spine as she buries her face in his neck. “You’re okay.” 

“What’s wrong with me?” 

“Nothing. You just need a little help, and that’s not a bad thing.” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” 

“Don’t know,” Zuko admits, “I guess we just have more in common than I thought.” 

“Hm, you’re too nice.” Mai sighs, smiling where he can’t see, “I don’t get it. I mean, look at you, i’m laying here naked and you haven’t even made a move.” 

“I was kind of waiting for a go-ahead. And I also just like talking to you.” Zuko snorts. 

“Oh?” She sits up then, the curtain of black strands falling once more. Pressing kisses along his skin, she drags her lips across his jaw line, pressing down harder where every scar begins and ends. “Go ahead.” 

“It’s okay.” He says, and turns them both, smiling at her amusement when Mai topples onto the pillows. “It doesn’t feel right, so we can just, lay here, if that’s okay?” 

“I’m fine with that.” 

By morning she’s gone, everything from her clothes to her purse, just a sticky note halfway unsuck from the bathroom mirror. 

Coffee Shop.  
Mai 

When he comes out of the bathroom, note in hand, Sokka waits just outside of the door, hand up, giant grin on his face. “You did it, man!” 

“Did what?” 

“You know what.” Sokka says, his smile growing larger, “How was it?” 

“I didn’t do anything with her, Sokka.” 

“So...you’re trying to tell me—I came in last night and you guys were all cuddled up and gross--and let me add, in the nude, for nothing?” 

“Not for nothing.” 

“I sold her a toothbrush! It better have been worth it!”

“You sold my girlfriend a toothbrush?” 

“So she is your girlfriend.” Sokka smirks, “It’s actually a pretty good business. You have no idea how many girls come to these dorms and forget a toothbrush.” 

“So you sell them?” 

“Along with several other things.” Sokka shrugs, “Deodorant, feminine products, loofahs.” 

“Loofahs?” 

“Yeah!” 

Zuko’s eye roll nearly gives him a headache, “I gotta go. Good luck with your uh—loofah business.” 

“Tell her I said thanks for her patronage.” 

“Right.”

Mai sits in her usual place, only a notebook in front of her, scrawling out lines across the pages at double the speed she’s used to. The second Zuko gets close enough she shuts the cover, slipping the pen into the coils of the binding. “You got my note.” 

“I did.” 

“Great, let’s go.” 

“Go where, exactly?” 

There’s a difference in Mai’s smile from the night before, like a night of sleep and an encounter with the sketchy toothbrush salesman had lightened her. “Just trust me.”


	8. Heights

Mai stays through the weekend, letting the hours bleed through the days. She doesn’t talk so much about anything in particular, but also everything at once. During breakfast she tells stories about her brother, he’s seven, he likes The Brothers Grimm because that’s all she’d ever read to him. She’s only ever been to the aquarium once, seahorses are her favorite. Each little tale is accented with a smile.

Parts of this don't feel real. Like last night didn't happen, like she didn't break apart in his hands, all of her falling away like sand. He wonders how far she's buried it, is it just under the skin, or somewhere hidden deep?

“Which was the best?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You tell a lot of stories, i’m just curious.”

“Hm.” Mai bites her lip, “Remember when we went to that carnival?” 

“The one you didn’t want to go to?” Zuko asks, running his thumb across the blush on her cheeks. 

“Mhm. That’s probably up there. Not number one or anything, but it’s up there.” 

“Why?”

“I just like watching you.” She smiles, “You throw yourself into everything, clumsily, mind you. But, you did everything you could to make sure I'd have a fun time. I appreciate it.”

“I'm glad.”

“I've already told you how you make me feel.”

“How's that?”

“I'm not going over it again, don't get your hopes up.” 

The next week, he finds her in the coffee shop, scrawling into her notebook. He takes the seat across from her, careful to wait until she looks up. 

He wants her to explain further, anything to figure out exactly how she feels, exactly what to do to keep helping her. All just so he can tell her his side, tell her that falling for her was like discovering the sun after years of being under nothing but lamp light. But before he can string together the words he’s lost her again to the writing.

“Hey.” Zuko says, giving her hand a squeeze.

Mai looks up, giving him a small nod before looking down again.

“You've been missing class.”

She shrugs and her eyes wander across the room and up along the walls. 

“Mai?”

Silence.

“Mai.”

Her entire frame stiffens until she looks up, realizing it’s him, “Yes?”

He doesn't speak, only leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You seemed—-better, the other day.” Zuko says, their hands tangled together, her thumb running over the curve of his.

Mai looks back, giving Zuko a shrug, the faint beginnings of a smile spring up a light blush to her cheeks. “That depends.” 

“On what?”

“Your definition of better.” 

“Happier.” 

She ignores him, shutting the notebook closed, and getting up from her chair, “I want to go for a walk. Walk with me?”

Zuko follows, as expected, past the tables through the door, letting Mai lead him against the flow of students on the walkways. Mai thinks of what their lives are like, all of them trivial and less hectic, their minds chase the coattails of emotions, all the while she just gets what she can only describe as TV static. There's a story, she thinks.

There's the shuffle of papers in the lounge, the sounds of talking, when they get outside it goes from chatter to skateboards against the concrete, protests by megaphone, sorority girls and frat boys congregating in the courtyard.

The noise dials down as they approach the library. People litter the sitting space, sprawled out in the grass that spreads across the middle. Mai cuts right across, continuing to tug Zuko behind her.

“We're going to the library?” Zuko asks, quickening his steps to fall in line with her.

“Yes, and no.” Mai admits.

The building is ancient, at least in his sense of the word. Five floors, and no elevator, a spiraling staircase sits in the middle. Of course, that's where she leads him. 

“Top floor.” Mai says, letting go of his hand.

“What’s wrong with the first floor?” 

“I like the work out.”

After the first two flights Zuko starts to lag behind, letting Mai carry on more than halfway to the next floor until they reach the top. 

Zuko’s never been scared of heights, but there’s something about the rooftop of the library that leaves him uneasy. It’s not so much the fear of falling, but his willingness to jump, like a moth to light, too interested in how close he can get without going over.

“When you said top floor, I thought you meant—-”

“Technically the roof is a floor. Well it has one, anyway.” Mai sighs, “But, I like it up here.”

“Why?”

Almost instantly, the lightness to her seems to fade. “It’s all so fragile.” Mai says, watching as Zuko looks over the ledge.

“What is?” 

“Everything,” She steps closer, linking their arms together, using his shoulder as a head rest. “It can change in a second, this building could crumble, crushing us, and everything below in the process. Anything goes. Even so, I can breathe up here, no one’s watching me, no one expects anything. And even when it all goes to shit, I'd be okay with that.”

“A little pessimistic.”

“Realistic. I’m not wishing for us to tumble to our deaths, i’m just saying it could happen, things happen.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes.” 

“The feeling is mutual, Zuko. Trust me.” 

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you want to know?”

Below them the students look like ants, trailing in one direction or the other, into the openings of classrooms, disappearing beneath the canopies of the trees. Zuko can tell why she likes it up here, away from everyone else, open room to think, to breathe. The thought brings him back to the night before, how empty she felt, like all of her was lost, collecting dust. 

“Tell me about your aunt.” He says, “I met her, I told you that, I think? She helped me figure out where your parents lived.” 

“Aunt Mura?” Mai pauses, then scoffs, nuzzling a bit further into his shoulder, “She’s all right, she’s always taken care of me when my parents wouldn’t—-which, was pretty much all of the time.”

“I had an uncle, he took care of me too.” 

“Had? What happened to him?” 

“Huh? Oh, he’s fine, he just moved far away.”

“Without you?” 

“He deserves it, I gave him enough trouble growing up—-the old man deserves peace.” Zuko smiles, “We send letters, phone calls and stuff, too. I’d Skype him—-if he cared to figure out a computer.” 

Mai smiles back, barely. 

They stay quiet a while, the faint voices of the bustling walkways below them is the only thing that keeps him from drifting too far into his thoughts. 

“My parents haven’t really ever remembered that I exist. Not even when i’m right in front of them. My mother notices a little more than my dad, but even she can’t seem to put together that i’m more than just a doll for dress up.” Mai sighs, “Being home is like—-like watching a soap opera, every character plays their part, but there’s so much lying beneath the surface. Dishonesty, fighting, pain, neglect, and everyone pretends not to see it.” 

“I see it.”

“Shut up.” Mai rolls her eyes, giving his arm a light squeeze. “So that’s why I lived in that shitty apartment, anyway...” 

“You didn’t seem to like it there either.” 

“I didn’t.” Mai sighs, “But anywhere’s better than there.”

“Have you talked to them about it?” Zuko asks. 

“Ha. And say what?” 

“You’re their daughter, they should just—-”

“I haven’t talked to anyone about anything, and there’s a reason for that.” 

“You talk to me.” 

“Yeah, and and I don’t know why. Stupid decision.” 

She unlinks her arm from his, turning her back to the ledge. “I don’t want to talk anymore.” 

“I'm sorry.”

They go silent, both looking over the edge. Mai moves first, pushing herself up until she can swing her legs over, kicking her feet over the kaleidoscope of movement below.

“That's dangerous.” Zuko says.

“Because I could fall?”

He nods, stepping closer.

“See, fragile.” Mai smiles, only to stand up, steady, but even so it doesn't ease Zuko’s anxiety in the slightest.

“Mai.”

She looks back at him, slowly closing her eyes as she turns in a circle, once, twice…until there's a tug on her sweater and she topples backward.

“Mai.” Zuko says again, his voice more hectic, the feeling of her body crashing into him seems to snap her out of it. “We should go.” 

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.” He sighs, “let's just—get you home, okay?”

~**~***~**~

The distance between the car and the front door feel like a much larger, deeper threshold than she’d like to admit. On one end, Zuko sits in the driver’s seat, waving back at her as she bids her farewells from the doorway, his face pained and unchanging. On the other, she stands on a borderline, one foot on the side of freedom, one leading to the next few days of blank pages and the TV static.

In her room, she walks a half circle around the bed posts, running her hands along the dents in the wood. The bottom of the sheets are still frilled from the tears, shadows are cast over the stained red in the carpet, fighting to be hidden under the bed’s frame. 

She remembers how they rearranged things, like they always had. Put picture frames over the crumbled dry wall, area rugs, throw pillows, new mirrors, anything it took to change the set.

It's a been a year, Mai thinks, and she has never been as close to happy as she is now. And yet, the shadows seem to wane, the nicks in the wood dig dipper, screaming that she draw back into their horrors—-comfortable. But, it’s the way his fingers blossom goosebumps along her neck, an explosion of blush wherever his lips land on her cheek. It's these things that remind her she isn't empty, these things that pull her from the library’s roof. 

Mai curls up in the bed sheets, turning out the lights so the shadows bleed together, eating the room whole. Maybe she stayed too long on the ledge, maybe she'd become too cryptic. 

A half hour passes, and her phone lights up. Zuko’s name flashing on the screen. 

“See you soon?” It says, and she smiles, letting the words illuminate the room.


End file.
